Now that was some fine flying! he thought, impressed by Athee’s adept handling of the craft. Viewing their tight run through her eyes was far more enjoyable than flying blind.
Thank you. She may not compare to your Darten, but this little plane is capable of more than you realize.
Byron’s thoughts returned to his damaged fighter. Well, right now my Darten isn’t capable of flying anywhere.
She’s out of commission?
I’m afraid so. I’ll have to use the shuttle for tomorrow’s lesson.
I’m sorry.
Byron leaned back and peered out the side window. I still have a few tricks. Don’t think you’re getting off easy tomorrow.
Oh yeah? Athee retorted. Well, don’t think you’re getting off easy, either. Hang on!
His stomach lurched as the plane rolled to the left. Byron’s fingers dug into Athee’s seat again as the plane continued to spiral. With great force, his center of gravity shifted. Before he could voice a protest, the craft completed its rotation and resumed a level flight. Athee laughed at his disorientation.
You think that was funny? Byron demanded, reaching around the seat. He wrapped his arm about her waist. She laughed again, undeterred by his threatening tone. Realizing she could still hear his thoughts, which were anything but hostile. Byron gave her midsection a quick squeeze.
Just wait until tomorrow! I’m giving you my worst.
Athee’s laughter indicated his threat didn’t scare her. Byron shook his head, but did not remove his arm. Judging from her pleased thoughts, she didn’t object to the physical contact.
Like you couldn’t handle my worst anyway, he thought. In or out of the cockpit!
Chapter Ten
Athee strode toward the hanger, her eyes on the two pilots several steps ahead of her. Istaner might think his hushed tones would avoid detection, but she sensed the man’s indignation with today’s lesson. A wicked grin crossed her lips. Byron had warned Athee he still possessed a few tricks. Implementing several new maneuvers this week, he’d revealed weaknesses in more than one pilot. To her credit, she was not one of them.
Pausing at the hanger entrance, she waited for Byron. He approached with his shoulders back and a smirk on his face. Athee placed a hand on her hip and fixed him with an accusatory stare.
“Feel better now?”
Byron stopped and glanced past Athee. His thoughts now matched his triumphant grin. The combination amused her.
“Your cousin needed to be taken down a couple notches,” he answered.
She shook her head. A strong breeze pulled the hair away from her face. She gazed at the gathering clouds and frowned.
“Glad we flew this morning,” she observed. “Thunderstorms are rolling in. Always makes for dangerous flying.”
Byron peered at the horizon. “Maybe it’ll settle some the damned dust. I swear I’m going to take half of Tgren’s sand home with me in the shuttle. Why couldn’t your people settle in a temperate climate instead?”
Indignant, Athee twisted around to face her instructor and prepared to counter his remark. A distant rumble caught her attention. They turned toward the mountain.
“That wasn’t thunder,” she said, puzzled by the sound.
They stared in silence, waiting for the source of the noise to reveal itself. Movement caught Athee’s eye and a thin cloud of dark smoke twisted into the sky.
“No, that came from the alien ruins!” Byron gasped.
He began to run for his shuttle. Without hesitation, Athee followed. Their boots pounded the pavement in rhythm and fear rose in her chest. Had the cave collapsed? Dozens of people were working inside.
They reached the ship and Byron grabbed her arm. “You shouldn’t come with me,” he said as the hatch opened.
“We’re just flying to the ruins,” she protested, recalling Korden’s orders. “Damn it, those are my people up there, too!”
“Come on then.”
She scrambled aboard and Byron secured the hatch with haste. He offered no protest when she strapped herself into the co-pilot’s seat. He ran through the systems at record speed and lifted the shuttle into the air. Athee heard the internal hum of the teleporter. On cue, the view outside the cockpit changed. She gasped at the sight of black smoke pouring out of the cave. A collapsed tunnel did not form that dense of a cloud.
“Medical kit and masks,” Byron instructed, flashing a visual of their location. He punched the com button on the console. “Rennather, we have an explosion at the alien site.”
Athee unfastened her harness and raced to the back of the shuttle. She staggered off balance as Byron set the ship on the ground in a hasty landing. Grasping the wall, she reached for the button. A small compartment opened. Extracting the medical bag first, she set it on the floor. Athee reached for the masks in the back. Byron joined her and grabbed the medical kit.
Masks on before entering the cave, he instructed, taking one of the masks. And let me go first.
Athee nodded and followed him out of the shuttle. They ran up the short incline and were met by a Tgren man.
“There was an explosion,” he cried, running alongside Byron and Athee. “The others went in to help.”
“How many are inside?” asked Byron, slowing his pace as he adjusted the mask.
“At least twenty.”
Byron cursed and pulled the mask over his face. Athee fumbled with hers for a moment, yanking on the wide straps. Byron snatched it from her hands. He placed it on her face, tugging to secure it to her head. He nodded and moved toward the cave’s entrance.
I’d tell you to wait, but I know you’d refuse. Just stay behind me.
Stepping into the smoke, Athee found her vision impaired by the swirling black soot. The lights strung down the tunnel offered little illumination. She reached out with her fingertips, fearful of running into a wall. A hand grasped hers and a soft glow appeared. Athee realized Byron held a small, portable light. The beam cut through the gloom and he moved forward, his hand holding hers fast.
They moved with care, but the floor was clear of debris. Explosion must’ve occurred within the main chamber, Byron thought. Damn it, we’ve got to reach them.
Athee picked up on his fear as an image of a young man flashed in his mind. Your friend? she asked, increasing her pace to keep up with his long strides.
Yes, Mevine!
Athee heard a noise ahead, followed by a hoarse voice offering encouragement. Byron paused as several men approached and held the light above his head. Two of the men were injured and one dangled from the shoulders of another, his clothes splashed with blood.
“There’s more injured,” one man announced, his voice muffled under the mask.
The moment they had passed, Byron yanked on Athee’s hand, pulling her forward. At the entrance to the alien ruins, they met two more men carrying the lifeless body of a third. His hand tightened around hers as Byron paused again, holding the light on the procession as it passed. The man’s injuries prevented identification, especially in the swirling black smoke, but the dark skin and hair revealed his Tgren origin. Athee gasped and stepped forward.
They can tend to him, Byron thought, tugging on her hand. We’ve got to get everyone outside before another explosion collapses the tunnel.
Two more groups passed as they made their way to the main chamber, and Byron hesitated each time. His friend was not among the injured. Athee sensed Byron’s growing urgency and stuck close to him. She was troubled by the uncharacteristic display of emotion from the otherwise stoic Cassan. Athee had begun to doubt his ability to care, but his concern for Mevine’s safety broadcast urgently from his thoughts.
They reached the entrance to the control center. The thick smoke poured from the room and it was difficult to see more than few feet ahead. She clung to Byron lest they became separated in the darkness. Athee could just make out the orb in the center of the room. The bursts of light were gone and it now lay shrouded in darkness. The hum of machinery no longer vibrated the ai
r. All of the alien equipment appeared dark, the multitude of lights gone. Athee shuddered at the lifeless scene.
Several lights flashed around the chamber. Loud, urgent voices reached her ears. Athee’s fingers gripped Byron’s tighter as the smell of death reached her nose even through her mask. Someone to her left moaned and coughed. Byron kept moving forward, his mind focused on one thing.
Mevine, he cried, his thoughts unshielded in an attempt to locate the man. Mevine!
A cry of pain distracted her. Athee almost tripped over a piece of equipment when Byron released her hand. Desperate not to lose him, she followed the bobbing light with outstretched hands. Grasping a solid structure, she propelled herself forward and discovered Byron bent over the slight frame of a young man. Athee dropped to her knees at his side.
Mevine! he thought, his hands grasping the inert figure. Blood poured from a gash in the man’s head and another on his arm.
A moan followed by a shuffling behind them caught Athee’s attention. Glancing toward the sound, she discovered a Cassan sporting a similar facemask endeavoring to lift a figure covered in blood. She reached out to assist as he pushed the man into a sitting position. The Cassan attempted to wrap his arm around the figure, struggling to maintain his grasp.
Byron? she thought, unsure whom to help first.
I can carry Mevine, he announced. Assist that man and stay close to me.
Athee slipped her arm around the injured man and nodded at the Cassan. Together, they rose to their feet.
“Grab his leg. It’ll be easier to carry rather than drag him,” the man instructed, his voice loud despite the mask.
She struggled a moment before securing a hold. Glancing up, she noticed Byron awaited them, the thick smoke curling around his tall frame. Mevine’s motionless body hung from his arms.
Come on.
She sensed the pilot’s impatience as they stumbled down the corridor, but Byron remained only a few steps ahead. They followed his bobbing light into the tunnel, passing several men on their way into the structure. Athee grasped the man’s legs even tighter, fearful she’d drop him. Byron’s urgent thoughts kept her moving, and at last they emerged from the cave.
Out in the open, Byron moved with rapid steps down the embankment. He deposited Mevine’s body on the soft sand. Athee guided the man in the same direction and they all but dropped their burden beside Byron’s friend. In the light, the gaping hole in the man’s chest became apparent at the same time Athee realized he was a Tgren. She turned at once to Byron and found him digging through the medical kit. He ripped the mask from his face in frustration. Scowling, Byron extracted several pieces of gauze and a water bottle.
“Here,” he said, pushing the bag her direction.
Athee found a large strip of gauze among the items. She pressed it over the man’s wound. The other man pulled aside his mask and reached for the bag. He produced a small compress and handed it to Athee, gesturing toward the man’s bleeding shoulder. She covered that wound and he took over applying pressure to the man’s chest. Feeling the man’s neck for a pulse, Athee realized he was indeed still alive. If he didn’t receive medical attention soon, though, the man would die from his injuries.
Realizing her mask was still in place, she wrestled it from her head. Tossing it aside, she glanced at Byron. One hand wrapped gauze around his friend’s arm while the other pressed a damp compress on the man’s head.
Come on, Mevine. Wake up! he pleaded, his mental voice urgent.
Athee observed with fearful fascination, moved by the genuine concern on Byron’s face. He continued to plead with his friend, prompting Mevine to respond. Staring hard at his dirty face, Athee detected movement under the young man’s eyelids.
He’s coming to, she thought.
Mevine, answer me! Byron begged.
The young man moaned. He tried to raise his injured arm. Byron restrained him and Mevine opened his eyes. He blinked several times, puzzled to see the pilot.
“Officer Byron?” he murmured.
“Don’t try to talk,” ordered Byron, dabbing at the gash on his head. “You’re safe now.”
Mevine coughed and raised his free hand to his face. He gasped once and then fell into a coughing fit.
“Come on, can you sit up?” Byron said, placing a hand behind his neck.
Athee reached over and helped push Mevine into a sitting position. The young man coughed a few more times before his breathing settled into a raspy rhythm. He rubbed his forehead, smearing the black smudges on his face.
“Here, try a drink of water,” Byron suggested, holding up the bottle.
A loud voice caught Athee’s attention and she tried to locate the speaker. The scene was total chaos. The area outside the cave entrance lay littered with injured men. With her mask removed, she could smell the acrid smoke as it continued to drift from the cave. Those with fewer or no injuries attended to the men in dire need of medical assistance. In the confusion, it was impossible to tell how many remained inside.
Her gaze returned to the Tgren. His chest wound had soaked several layers of bandages. Athee didn’t know him, but her heart went out to the man. She adjusted her hold on his shoulder, determined to stop at least one source of his blood loss. Beside her, Byron coaxed Mevine to lie down again.
“Just relax,” he ordered.
Byron placed the young man’s good hand over the gauze on his arm. He poured a little water over Mevine’s head wound and applied pressure again.
“There was a high-pitched sound,” the young man gasped, “and then the central control panel exploded.”
“Shh,” said Byron, resting a hand on Mevine’s good shoulder. “You’ll have plenty of time to explain what happened later.”
“Before that there was a beam of light…”
“Mevine, stop talking!”
Byron’s authoritative tone silenced the young man. He stared wide-eyed at the pilot, his mouth open in surprise. Byron offered a patient smile that seemed to put Mevine at ease.
A voice at Athee’s elbow startled her. Shifting her attention, she noticed a medic examining the Tgren, pulling back his eyelids. He glanced up and peered around her.
“Officer Byron, we’ve four men who need immediate transport to the Rennather, or they’re not going to make it,” he stated. “including this Tgren.”
“Let’s get them loaded.”
The man nodded and rose to his feet. Athee grabbed Byron’s arm before he could move.
“Let me go with this man,” she pleaded.
Byron shook his head. “No, the commander would kill us both if you arrived on the ship right now.”
“Someone needs to go with him. He’ll be terrified when he awakens and discovers he’s on a spaceship.”
“Athee!” Byron grasped her shoulder. His intensity forced her to look him in the eye. Please, I need you to stay with Mevine. Promise me you will.
His desperate tone caused Athee to catch her breath. She nodded, too stunned by the emotional charge in his words to argue. She felt movement behind her and realized men were lifting the injured Tgren onto a makeshift gurney. Byron grabbed her hand and pressed the damp gauze against her palm before placing it on Mevine’s head. He gazed at his friend and touched the young man’s hand.
“Athee will stay with you. I’ll return soon.”
Mevine nodded and Byron rose to his feet. Athee gasped, afraid to let him go.
Thank you. Stay with him.
He trotted to his shuttle, the men carrying the injured Tgren in tow. A rumble overhead caused Athee to jump, but a flash that signified lightning followed the sound. The storm couldn’t happen at a worse time with injured men outside and exposed to the elements.
Swallowing hard, she shifted her attention to Mevine. The young man stared at her in confusion, his breath still ragged. She offered a smile that Athee hoped conveyed assurance and moved to his injured side.
I remember you from the festival, she thought, using her mental voice to encourage Mevi
ne to respond in kind. He didn’t need to speak right now.
You danced with Byron, Mevine thought, blinking his eyes.
Athee nodded. Yes, I did.
You like him.
His comment was a statement rather than a question. Athee grinned at his bold observation. I do.
Mevine’s lips curved into a faint smile and he closed his eyes. Good.
Byron’s shuttle lifted into the air a few minutes later. From the shouts of those around her, Athee gathered that no one remained in the cave. Her shoulders drooped, releasing some of her tension, just as another rumble echoed overhead. On the heels of the thunder, the second shuttle appeared in the sky. A moment later, a large transport plane also arrived and those outside the cave began to move.
The medic sent three more men to the Rennather. The remaining injured were to travel by plane to the Ktren medical facility. Athee assisted Mevine to the Tgren transport, guiding his unsteady gait across the uneven surface. A large raindrop landed on her cheek, striking with considerable force. She helped Mevine inside just as the downpour began.
Athee’s heart raced as the plane left the ground and soared toward the dark clouds. The plane’s pilot boasted many years of experience, but that didn’t ease her mind as they were buffeted during the flight by wind and rain. Athee’s worried thoughts remained shielded until they were on the ground once again.
Ktren’s medical facility was small. Eight injured men stretched the staff to the limit. Athee stayed with Mevine as promised and even helped with his bandages. He was placed in a tiny corner room on the second floor. The medic gave him a glass of water, adjusting the sling around his arm. Athee seized the opportunity to slip out of the room.
She located a washbasin down the hall. Turning on the spigot, Athee waited while the water’s temperature rose. She couldn’t do anything about the blood on her flight suit, but she wanted to wash the grime and blood off her hands. The smell continued to cling to her clothes and hair. It would require several washings to remove the stench. No amount of water would wipe away the memory of today’s tragedy, though.
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